Green is Veg, Moving is Meat | Food and Biodiversity
Foodthink’s Perspective
For the average person, the most direct way to get involved is through eating. By doing so, we can appreciate the beauty brought by biodiversity, but we may also inadvertently damage the environment or even eat certain species into endangerment or extinction.
So, how do we eat correctly? Recently, Foodthink and the Tencent Science channel “Species on the Table” invited four farmers, ecologists, anthropologists, and naturalist writers to discuss the complex relationship between food and biodiversity, focusing on wild vegetables.
Roundtable Guests
I. The Yunnanese View of Wild Vegetables: Everything Green is a Vegetable, Everything that Moves is Meat
Three years ago, she began systematically recording the naturalist daily life of a wet market in Kunming, including over 300 types of wild mountain vegetables. Excerpts of her writing have been published in *October* magazine. What first drew your attention to the topic of wild vegetables?
Ban Xia: Let me start with a story! Around 1997, when I first began writing literature, I went to Pu’er (then called “Simao”) for a writers’ conference. There, I met Huang Yan, a female writer of the Hani people. After the conference, she invited me to her home. When it came time to cook, I noticed that her kitchen contained some meat, but I couldn’t see any vegetables. While I was wondering about this, she asked me to come outside with her. After taking me on a couple of laps around the back of the house, she found three types of wild vegetables. She told me: “You know, for us Hani people, everything green is a vegetable, and everything that moves is meat.”
Two of the wild vegetables had very strange names: one was called “Xuantong vegetable” and the other “Xianfeng vegetable”, both named after the era names of emperors. I recognised the Xianfeng vegetable; it is the common ghost needle grass, which sticks to us as we pass by to spread its seeds. I wondered why ghost needle grass would be given such a name.
Now, when I have the chance, I also forage for these wild vegetables. I collect the tender tips of the Xianfeng vegetable, blanch them in water, and then dress them as a cold salad; it’s delicious.
Tianle: “Everything green is a vegetable, everything that moves is meat.” I first heard this phrase from friends of the Jino people in Xishuangbanna. Yunnan is truly a biodiversity hotspot in China. Li Ruijun, who also comes from Kunming, told me a similar story. He holds a Master’s in Anthropology from East China Normal University and is a freelance writer and research consultant for food documentaries. He has extensive experience in fieldwork and has long been interested in the culture, dietary customs, and multi-species dynamics of Yunnan’s ethnic minorities.
Li Ruijun: My undergraduate research focused on the diet of the Jingpo people. After going there, I discovered that when they go picnicking, they only need to bring a bag of salt and a bag of rice. All the knowledge of what is edible on the mountains or by the river is stored in their heads. The men carry a machete; if they have no cooking utensils, they simply cut bamboo tubes and various banana leaves on the spot. Everything from the food to the cookware is sourced entirely from nature. Being from Kunming, I thought I already ate quite a lot of wild vegetables, but after visiting the Jingpo people in Dehong, my understanding of the scope of “food” was greatly expanded. Their knowledge of wild vegetables is simply immense.
II. The Wet Market with the Greatest Variety of Wild Vegetables in the World
Ban Xia: After I retired early in 2020, I didn’t have much to do and wanted to find a project. Coincidentally, my home is only 300 metres from the Zhuanxin Wet Market in Kunming—just a five or six-minute walk. So, I started visiting every day, staying as long as I liked. Sometimes I would make a dedicated trip just to buy a piece of ginger or a few peppercorns. The more I visited, the stronger my curiosity became to identify those rare ingredients. I began sharing my findings on social media, and others did the same, which sparked a lot of interest. Now, the Zhuanxin Wet Market has become a popular social media destination.
Ban Xia: I dare say that the variety of wild mountain vegetables in Kunming’s Zhuanxin Wet Market is not only the greatest in the country, but the greatest in the world. The diversity of Yunnan’s geography and landforms has fostered ethnic and biological diversity, which in turn has created a diversity of ingredients. In other wet markets around the world, you might not find so many people willing to try such a vast array of wild vegetables. But our ethnic minority compatriots in Yunnan, such as the Hani and Jino, are true “Shennongs”—pioneers who have tasted a hundred herbs.
When I observed the wet market, I made friends with the vendors. It is these vendors who have acted as promoters for wild mountain vegetables. Local foragers would ask them to sell their produce, often on credit; they would sell as much as they could, and it didn’t matter if some went unsold. In this way, the variety of wild mountain vegetables at the Zhuanxin Wet Market grew year by year. There was one female boss who sold wild mountain vegetables; she was very straightforward, so I spent time observing and chatting with her. Her shop had the widest variety; once, I counted and found that there were as many as 106 types of wild mountain vegetables visible in her store.
III. Matsutake Mushrooms Eaten to the Brink of Extinction
Li Ruijun has long been engaged in the study of wild mushroom culture in Yunnan, writing articles on the subject for Foodthink, The Paper, and other media outlets. Could you help us understand the story behind the sudden popularity of wild mushrooms?
Li Ruijun: From my observation, 2020 was a clear dividing line for the surge in popularity of wild vegetables and mushrooms. Due to the pandemic, people’s perspectives were somewhat contradictory: some believed that eating wild things posed a risk, while others, who had been cooped up in cities for a long time, flocked to nature seeking relaxation. They became more concerned about their health and longed for things they perceived as being healthier and more natural.
I remember vividly the scene I saw in the mountains of Yunnan in July 2020; basically, every step I took, I saw a piece of litter, and a few steps further, I’d encounter more people. I found that in that year, crowds of people poured into the forests, especially to forage for mushrooms and wild greens. What was more concerning was that they picked whatever they saw without any real knowledge, believing that as long as it was from the wild and natural, it must be good. Previously, when they were in the city, the wild vegetables and mushrooms they ate were mainly bought from markets, where safety regulatory mechanisms effectively strip away most of the risks. But when foraging in the forest themselves without the necessary knowledge, the risk is very high. Consequently, the number of people poisoned by wild vegetables and mushrooms in Yunnan skyrocketed that year, with several cases becoming trending topics on social media.
Returning to the Matsutake being eaten into extinction—this is actually related to the nature of the mushroom. It has a very long growth cycle; the mycelium may need to grow beneath the surface for seven or eight years, or even longer, before it can break the soil and mature. However, because Matsutake has now formed a powerful commercial supply chain, demand is simply too high; the rate of consumption is faster than the mushrooms can grow. Once forest plots are leased out, the yield is pre-booked long in advance. Additionally, due to climate factors in recent years, Yunnan has become increasingly arid with less rainfall, resulting in fewer mushrooms. This year, the mushrooms emerged about two weeks later than usual, and the quantity was particularly low. Thus, it has become scarcer, harder to source, and increasingly precious.
Li Ruijun: There is a legend that Matsutake was the only species capable of growing in the nuclear blast zones after the atomic bombs in Japan. This claim has never been verified and has simply become an urban legend. In a commercial context, increasingly mysterious properties have been attributed to it; some say it can fight cancer, and some nutritional studies have emerged claiming that the matsutake alcohol within it affects cancer cells. But as we know, even if a drug has an effect, dosage and course of treatment must be considered to be effective. Through commercial packaging, however, this was simplified to: “eating Matsutake can fight cancer”. Even more amusingly, because matsutake alcohol is primarily concentrated in the membrane under the cap, people are told not to damage that layer when eating it. This has created a phenomenon where unopened Matsutake are valued more highly than those whose caps have opened.
Matsutake has become increasingly mystified: first through the legendary tales of urban myths, second through its dwindling yield and increasing scarcity, and finally through various commercial marketing tactics, making it seem almost divine.
The same pattern applies to other things, like truffles, which are actually a traditional edible fungus. Truffles have a unique, pungent aroma, similar to the pheromones of a boar in heat. Then there is a simple belief—not just among Chinese people, but abroad as well—that eating something supplements the corresponding part of the body. People say that eating this will make one exude charm. Once this narrative reached China and was commercially packaged, it quickly aligned with traditional Chinese wellness concepts, becoming a claim that eating truffles is beneficial for both women and men. In reality, we didn’t have this narrative when we used to eat truffles previously.
Banxia: Besides Matsutake, truffles are becoming harder and harder to find; they are nearly being dug to extinction. In Italy and France, there are regulations; they must be located by the scent of dogs or pigs before they can be harvested. Those who specialise in finding truffles are called “truffle hunters”. In Chuxiong, a major mushroom-producing area in our country, truffle dogs were introduced, but no one is willing to do it that way. I’ve seen videos of truffle harvesting where the soil is completely overturned, sometimes to a depth of half a metre. The truffles are being dug up smaller and smaller; when cut open, they are white or at most grey, rather than that mature black colour.
IV. A Rich Tradition of Foraging Wild Greens
Sun Shan is one of the founders of the Mountain Water Conservation Centre and currently serves as its Chairperson. Since 2015, she has been farming to experience the land, agriculture, food, ecology, and a life of self-sufficiency. Now based in Ottawa, Canada, she runs the “Chi Garden Ecological Farm and Fermentation Kitchen”. She has previously held natural herbal salve workshops with Foodthink and has shared her ecological perspective on food and agriculture and her practical experiences on several occasions.
Sun Shan: It is not just in China; traditions of foraging for wild greens and mushrooms exist all over the world. With my background in ecology, and because I am involved in small-scale agricultural production and nature education, I have a keen interest in the foraging traditions of different regions.
The first tradition that influenced me, naturally, is as a Northerner from North-East Asia and China; I was exposed to many wild greens from a young age. Furthermore, as an ecology student, I acquired a great deal of professional botanical knowledge through my studies and work.
The second influence comes from the Indigenous peoples of North America. Before the arrival of Europeans and before the original natural landscapes were transformed into today’s industrialised agriculture and urban vistas, they—like many other peoples in the world—already possessed vast amounts of local traditional knowledge. This included local wild greens, fungi, and more, extending beyond food to medicinal knowledge and an understanding of ecosystems. During the process of colonisation, much of this rich knowledge system was not passed down, becoming a form of scarce knowledge that most people outside of Indigenous communities are no longer aware of.
Sun Shan: The third tradition I studied came from European settlers. What they primarily brought were European botanical systems and European herbal traditions. For instance, in the Peterson series of field guides, there is the *Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants*, which introduces hundreds of edible and medicinal plants found in the eastern and central regions of North America. There are many similar reference books in North America; most of their authors were European herbalists and botanists, though an increasing number of Indigenous food systems and foraging methods are now being incorporated.
Sun Shan: Beyond reference books, there are many wild foraging groups. For example, there is the local group in Ottawa—Foragers of Ottawa—where participants from various cultural backgrounds regularly ask questions and discuss which wild greens to pick and whether it is permissible to do so. In these books and groups, two points are most emphasised: firstly, safety—how to distinguish edible plants from similar-looking toxic species; and secondly, sustainability—how to harvest in moderation without damaging the ecology.
Sun Shan: The herbalist Nicole Teague developed a set of foraging ethics based on “impact levels”. The lowest level consists of species that are abundant and widely distributed, such as garlic mustard. This is an invasive species that would grow even after a major typhoon; you need not worry about its extinction regardless of how much you harvest. The highest level consists of species that are critically endangered or highly sensitive. These species should be protected; even if they are delicious, they must absolutely not be harvested—this includes the original, very slow-growing perennial species in the forest. Much of this foraging ethic is derived from Indigenous teachings, reflecting a sustainable relationship of coexistence with the natural ecosystem.
Sun Shan: It is impossible to forage for wild greens without viewing nature through the lens of the ecosystem. Our ecosystems are inherently diverse. In his book *The Story of Weeds*, the British writer Richard Mabey records an interesting detail. The botanist Salisbury went into the wild and, upon his return, managed to cultivate over 20 species and a total of 300 weeds from the fragments he brought back in the cuffs of his trousers. This rich ecosystem is shared; it provides food not only for humans but also for insects and many other organisms. Therefore, when we discuss wild greens, we must not forget the ecological perspective.
V.What is the experience of growing wild vegetables in the city?
There is a little story behind her invitation today. Once, while attending a meeting at Foodthink, she brought a bag of freshly picked lamb’s quarters. She spent the meeting picking through the greens and, once the meeting ended, prepared a wild vegetable cold salad for everyone, instantly making a name for herself. She has also been a guest at Foodthink’s reading club. So, as a professional engaged in the protection of urban biodiversity, how does Ms Tan view this topic?
Tan Lingdi: The urban green spaces we see often present as near-monocultures because a uniform appearance seems more aesthetically pleasing, but this can lead to many problems. For instance, people lose the experience of diversity; in a monoculture lawn, if you crouch down to look, you will find very few types of wildflowers. Moreover, compared to lawns with weeds, monoculture lawns are more prone to disease, which in turn requires more pesticides. Furthermore, single-species environments can lead to food shortages for other creatures, such as insects and birds.
To restore urban biodiversity, we need to push for changes in the maintenance and management standards of urban green spaces. For example, previous standards required lawns to be weed-free; we hope to promote policies that allow a certain amount of weeds to grow. We also actively plant certain “weeds”, including nectar- and pollen-rich plants, to support pollinating insects like bees.
One study mentions that cities can actually serve as sanctuaries for pollinators. In areas with significant human influence, rural environments can ironically be less friendly to pollinators due to the heavier use of pesticides. Therefore, planting food and nectar sources for pollinators in the city can be a great help to them. I believe that work such as “rewilding” urban green spaces provides city dwellers with more opportunities to encounter wild vegetables and insects.
When planting these native species, we usually trial them first in the backyard of our office at Peking University to see if they can thrive. During the trial process, we need to pull out competing weeds at the right time—especially aggressive wild vegetables like lamb’s quarters, which grow very quickly. After pulling them, feeling that it would be a waste not to eat them, I occasionally eat some of the lamb’s quarters; they taste very good after blanching. That is why I brought some to the Foodthink meeting.
It is important to note that lamb’s quarters contain porphyrins; avoid direct sunlight after consumption, as it can easily cause phototoxic inflammatory reactions.
VI. Wild vegetables are gifts from local ecosystems
Sun Shan: Humans are aware of over 15,000 edible plant species, yet we actually cultivate less than a tenth of them—at most around 1,000. We rely on fewer than 150 species as primary food sources, and 90% of human food comes from just 20 species. Thus, the vast majority of the gap between 15,000 edible species and 100+ cultivated ones remain undomesticated. Our staple grains are even more concentrated; wheat, rice, maize, and barley account for three-quarters of the entire cereal market.
There are many wild, perennial grains that have never been domesticated. Why is that? There could be many reasons. Take the trout lily, for example, which is common in Japan, China, and North America. It has a small, starch-rich corm at its base, known in Japan as *katakuri*, which means starch. In early times, the rhizomes of many wild plants were sources of starch. One reason it wasn’t domesticated may be its very low yield. Once a more efficient starch substitute was found, there was no longer a need to rely on these low-yield, hard-to-domesticate plants. In the process of human evolution, only plants that could support a growing population with predictable yields were domesticated.
The wild species mentioned earlier, such as wild bamboo shoots, matsutake, and truffles, are entirely integrated with their ecosystems. Their root systems, the mycelia in the soil, their nutrient sources, and their entire life cycle and circulation are tied to the ecological environment. Even if scientists can study them, they may not necessarily be able to replicate that environment. I do not believe that all plants should be domesticated. These wild vegetables and fungi should be viewed as gifts from each local ecosystem. This wild gift is inherently symbiotic with other species; in this symbiotic and sustainable relationship, humans are merely one part.
Originally published in Tencent News “Let’s Chat Science”
Reprinted with authorisation by the Foodthink official account
Compiled by: Muye
Edited by: Tianle